


Whore

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal, Crossdressing, Dirty Talk, Hannibal buys Will things, M/M, Oral, Rimming, a little praise kink, a little topping from the bottom, and then ruins them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 16:55:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2277492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will just wants to be Hannibal's whore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hannigramcracker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannigramcracker/gifts).



> It's Cait's birthday, and what good would I be as a girlfriend if I didn't write smut??? XD <3

Will twisted in his seat, the dark of the room feeling like a silken curtain falling over his body. He felt weighted down to his seat, as if he was chained to it in a fashion that was not entirely unpleasant. Next to him, Hannibal sat, still as a marble statue, eyes focused intently on the stage, at the singer whose voice was vibrating the air with its melody.

Will tried to settle his hands in his lap, found himself tugging on his sleeves. His tuxedo felt strange- perhaps, because up to this point in his life, he had never worn one. He had never seen the need, nor harbored the desire to feel like an over-dressed Penguin. And when Hannibal ahd extended an invitation to the Opera to him, he had thought his own old suit- not even black- would have sufficed.

Will would never know how Hannibal had taken all of his measurements- although he was sure the man having a key to his house, for when he was away on cases and he needed someone to check in on the dogs,was a good reason for it. Still, when Hannibal had arrive early, bearing the _gift_ , Will had been taken aback. He had tried to refuse, but his heart had turned into a scared bird in the cage of his ribs, had hammered so loudly he was sure Hannibal himself would have heard it.

Hannibal had had to tie the bowtie for him, and the memory of his hands near his neck, fingers skilled and nimble, was enough to have him shifting uncomfortably in his seat again. He’d wanted them on his throat, pressing against his pulse, threatening his air. Wanted this man so intimately close the doctor could have his very life in his hands, if he only dared to take that final inch.

Within the expertly fitted pants of his tuxedo, Will slid easily, a silken reminder wrapped around his body of his own true desires- that he wanted this to be _more than two friends_ , more than a trip to the Opera. More than Hannibal simply not wanting to go alone, or to give Will a forced fed dose of _culture_. Will wanted Hannibal to take him home after the Opera, sink his hands into his hair, kiss his mouth so hard it could bruise. He wanted him to strip him down to the silk panties he had worn and stare at him as if he were a masterpiece.

Of course, the idea that he would only look at Will in disgust had rested heavy on him too- yet he was sure a reality where Hannibal Lecter stripped him down enough to discover his secret was so slim in chance that it did not worry him much. He would have to find the small joy in feeling _pretty_ around Hannibal without the man knowing.

When the Opera finally concluded, Will followed Hannibal’s lead in giving a standing ovation- along with most of the room. He waited, patiently, to be spoken to, as much as he wanted to turn and throw his attention on the doctor- anything in the hopes of winning a small smile, seeing the points of those teeth that were far more attractive than they had any right to be.

When Hannibal finally turned, offer a subtle smile, Will felt his spine tingling, warming beneath his expensive clothing- his designer wrapping. He felt like an overly expensive gift- _and god he wanted the wrapping torn open_.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Will?” he asked, offering a hand in guidance, for Will to turn. The brunet did, making his way for the aisle.

“More then I expected,” Will admitted, knowing it wasn’t the performance but his company that he found enjoyment in. He stepped into the aisle, Hannibal taking up along side him- and reaching over, placing a hand delicately on the small of his back.

Will nearly shivered.

“That is wonderful. Perhaps you’ll grace me with your presence to another, then. Some other night, of course. I am sure you are growing tired.”

“You forget,” Will reminded as they spilled out with the crowds into the lobby, “I don’t sleep.”

Hannibal chuckled to himself, pressing his hand firmer to Will’s back. “Oh dear Will, I could never forget.” They stepped outside, and Will knew it wasn’t the night air that had him shivering.

*

Hannibal had given Will two options as he brought the engine of his Bentley to life. He could drive him back to Wolf Trap, or they could detour back to his home for wine. Will hadn’t hesitated, and he was glad for the dark that hide his blush. Later, he was sure if he made a fool of himself he could blame the pink in his cheeks on the wine, but then there was nothing except a slight chill in the air.

Once they were inside and the front door was securely locked, Will followed Hannibal towards the kitchen. The man was delicately tugging on his jacket, shedding it and leaving it neatly placed on his large counter. Will tried to look away, drag his eyes down to the floor, but it was _hard_. The white shirt that Hannibal still wore seemed far less formative than his tuxedo’s jacket- it seemed far easier to slide past.

“Red or white?” Hannibal asked, pulling a set of glasses from his cabinet. Will shrugged a shoulder, working his own jacket off as he did so. Then, thinking himself rude for not verbally answering, offered, “Uhm, whatever you want.”

“Red, then,” Hannibal said, nearly to himself, and disappeared to get the bottle. When he returned, he stopped at the counter to work it open, then delicately poured two glasses. Will waited, obediently perched by the counter, unsure what to do with himself. He wanted to tear his bowtie off and inhale deeply- but more so he wanted Hannibal to do it, to actually tear the fabric to get at his throat with hands and lips and teeth. He wanted bruises. He wanted ownership.

He wanted to own, as well.

Hannibal extended a glass to Will, who accepted with a quiet _thanks_ , while the doctor set his own aside, hands working on opening his bowtie and leaving it to rest on his shirt. “The clothing fits you nicely, Will.” He offered his observation casually, and Will, the glass almost to his lips, froze. Had Hannibal been examining him with those eyes? Had he been glancing at him in the dark and Will had not noticed?

“If you say so,” Will forced out, pulling the glass away from his lips without taking a sip. “I’ve never worn a tux before, I guess I don’t even know how it should fit.”

“As it did tonight.” Hannibal grabbed his own glass, taking a moment to inhale the wine’s scent, before he took a sip. Then, moving like liquid, he slid forward until he was close, so close to Will that the younger man nearly shifted away- or towards him, if he truly followed his body’s instincts. Hannibal reached out, a hand finding Will’s waist, warm through the shirt. “Properly tailored, it gives you enough room to breathe but allows a glimpse of your figure beneath.”

Will trembled, ever so slightly, and he thought he saw Hannibal’s lips quirk up slightly at the movement. “I don’t know if that’s really something to show off, Dr. Lecter.” Will tried to force a playful smile at the formality, but the one he received left his knees feeling weak.

“I would disagree, Will. Drastically.” Will’s lips parted, and nervous he clutched his wine closer, feeling a heat rising in his cheeks and having not yet taken even a sip. His wine excuse would do not good if his glass remained untouched.

“It must have been expensive.” He took a sip, a long one, and Hannibal’s smile remained as he gave the slightest of nods.

“Very much so. Tailored to your very measurements.”

“You probably shouldn’t have bought it.”

“Is it not to your liking?” Will hesitated, taking another sip of his wine, before setting it aside.

“No, it’s not that. You just...don’t need to buy me things.”

“Do you do like it, then?” Will sighed.

“I like it because it’s from _you_.” A moment passed, Hannibal’s smile widening, and Will blushed.

“Perhaps I’d like to buy you things, Will.” His hand still remained on Will’s waist, holding him now, a focal point of connection between the two. Will wanted more.

“Why? It’s almost like a mark of ownership.”

There was a glint in Hannibal’s eyes- something wicked and alluring that had Will’s cock twitching against the silk of his panties, his own hidden secret within this sordid mess. “Ownership is a very alluring concept, dear Will.”

Will stared at him, feeling his belly going tight in knots. He wanted to think he was crazy, he was hearing Hannibal wrong- misreading him. But it seemed undeniable, and he wondered if maybe, just maybe, the doctor was as ravenous as him.

There was only one way to find out.

Will reached out, grabbing Hannibal’s undone bowtie, using it to pull the man down closer. Their mouths crashed together almost violently, Will tilting his head so he could have the full of Hannibal’s mouth. He braced himself to be shoved away- but Hannibal’s hand on his waist tightened, and there was a clink as his wine glass was set on the counter before a hand found Will’s curls, buried within them. Hannibal’s tongue traced his lower lip, before pressing inside, and Will’s skull was hot with fire, flames trapped within bone causing a pressure that left him delirious. Hannibal tugged on his hair, adding to the fire, and Will moaned into his mouth, releasing his hold on the man’s bowtie and grasping at his shirt instead.

When the kiss abruptly ended, Will was breathless, panting. He nearly whined when Hannibal pulled his hands from his hair and waist, only to have the man grip his arm and nearly jerk him away from the counter, leading him through the kitchen and into the house. Will followed as best as he could, his mind spiraling down, losing the ability to form true thoughts- nothing beyond the feel of Hannibal’s mouth on his, nothing more than a desire for that mouth to be everywhere.

Will registered being led upstairs, into Hannibal’s bedroom, and then his mouth was back, ravishing Will and leaving him shaking. The brunet tried to fight back, tried to force his own tongue into the doctor’s mouth, but got the points of Hannibal’s teeth to his lower lip instead. He gave a cry, felt Hannibal’s hands working on his bowtie, tossing the tiny piece of fabric away.

When he grabbed Will’s shirt and tugged, sending buttons spraying to the floor, Will broke the kiss to cock an eyebrow and offer, “I thought this was expensive?”

“I will replace it,” Hannibal responded, shoving it down Will’s shoulders and dipping his head so he could find his neck. Lips sealing over his jugular, he sucked, flicked his tongue over the sensitive skin, had Will gasping, pushing his hips forward to grind against the man.

“Tell me I’m crazy,” Will breathed, even as Hannibal was guiding him back a step, two, then shoving him onto the bed. “There’s no way this is real.”

“Should I have you draw a clock?” Hannibal asked, arching a brow- and Will laughed, in an honest way he hadn’t in a long time. He flopped back, allowing Hannibal to lay along him, to find his mouth and kiss him again- a little slower now. Will liked it, shower it by bucking up once against him, then allowing his hands to roam Hannibal’s back, feeling muscle beneath cloth as the man moved. Will was hard, was moaning with every movement of the man above him- losing his breath when Hannibal angled his hips just right, and he could feel the swell of his cock, confined within his own clothing.

Will took a breath, then, mustering his courage- and following his desire- he jerked his body, rolling both of them over, so he lay atop Hannibal. He shifted up, so he was straddling the man’s lap, and the doctor sat up, wrapping a hand around his waist as Will pulled his shirt away, tossing it off. Hannibal bowed his head, lapped at his collar bone, and Will tilted his head back, closing his eyes.

“You could be a masterpiece, Will,” he breathed into hot skin, dragging his teeth along. “Let me adorn you like one.” Will shivered, wanted it, wanted Hannibal to worship him, but more so than a work of art.

No, there was more power in the earthly, carnal way of things.

“I could be your whore,” Will breathed, and felt Hannibal’s arm tighten around his waist. Teeth found his neck, and Will cried out, before Hannibal sank his other hand into his hair, holding his head as he ravished his mouth- tongue and teeth taking Will’s breath and drawing out desperate sounding moans. Hannibal pulled away, shoving Will off his lap, face down onto the bed. The brunet let it happen, pushed himself up on his hands as Hannibal forced him onto his knees, reaching around him to work on his pants. He was tugging them over the curve of his ass, down his thighs, and Will turned his head, looking over his shoulder, wanting to _see_ -

To see Hannibal’s reaction at his own hidden pleasure.

Hannibal was staring at the deep blue- nearly black- that clung to Will’s body, the way the light flicked off it. He reached out, ran his hand along the curve of his ass, smiling at the silken fabric. “ _Will_ ,” he breathed, “You lead me to believe you planned for our current situation.”

He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to the base of the brunet’s spine, leaving Will shivering. “Only hoped,” he whispered, turning away to bowed his head. A hand reached around him, palm pressing to the obvious strain of his cock in his underwear, and Will rocked into it, head dropping down further.

“I feel _hoped_ is an under statement, dear William.” Hannibal squeezed, gently, massaged as Will shifted, biting at his lower lip. “How often do you wear these?”

“O-often enough,” Will gasped, feeling the scrape of Hannibal’s teeth on his back.

“At home?” Will nodded. “Have you worn them to our sessions, Will?” Will groaned, feeling Hannibal’s hand dip down past the silk to wrap around his cock. He apparently didn’t need an answer- Will was sure he knew it was a _yes_. “And when you’re home, Will, do you think of me?” He stroked, once, and Will trembled, felt his world beginning to cave in. “Does the silk wrap around you like you wish I did? Tell me, what do you do to yourself while you wear them?”

Will tossed his head, fingers sinking into Hannibal’s blankets. “T-touch myself,” he admitted, choking back a cry. “A-and pretend it’s y-you.”

Hannibal smirked, placing a kiss to his spine. “Good boy,” he whispered, “How do I touch you, William?”

“Through them, at first.” He rocked with Hannibal’s hand, as a kiss moved back down his spine. “Until I-I’m leaking and...and I can’t handle it. Then like this- except...”

“Except what?”

“I-I’m in your lap,” Will admitted. Hannibal smirked, moving and nipping at Will’s ass through the fabric. Then he pulled back, climbing off the bed and grabbing Will’s pants, guiding everything down. He stripped Will to his panties, then slipped him over, pulling them down to- watching with ravenous eyes as his cock bounced free, at the flush that matched his cheeks. Will arched as they were pulled off, glancing through thick lashes as Hannibal settled on the bed. He hesitated, then rolled over, crawling onto him so he was stradling him. Hannibal reached down, grasping his cock- which was leaking now, leaving slick trails along its length- and stroked with a cocky smile.

“Like this?”

Will stared, down at his hand around his cock, then back up at the handsome face of he was sure the devil himself. “Y-yeah,” he whispered, rocking with the strokes, arching his back slightly. Completely naked, he was a stark contrast to Hannibal who was still dressed- but Will liked it. Liked feeling so exposed, liked being raw and honest for the man touching him.

“You do look the part a harlot,” Hannibal breathed, taking in the flush that ran down Will’s cheeks, his neck. “Do you want to be my whore, Will?”

“Yes!” Will shook, felt his belly growing tight.

“Do you know what a whore does for his master, Will?” Will shook his head, and Hannibal’s smile showed the points of his teeth. “He cums on command. And I, dear Will,” he whispered, twisting his fist along the head of his cock, “am commanding.”

Will gave a cry, jerking into the couch, finding more pleasure in Hannibal’s _command_ than anything else. He let his orgasm consume him, leaving him panting and slumping down, clutching at Hannibal’s shoulders and having no idea when he grabbed him.

“You are good, William,” Hannibal breathed, leaning forward, “so, _so good_. I think I would like to own you.” Will shivered, let his forehead rest against Hannibal’s, smelling his cologne and wanting to suffocate himself with it. Instead, he took to drowning- accepting Hannibal’s hand when it was raised and lapping at the remnants of his orgasm. Hannibal’s eyes nearly glowed with delight.

“And,” he added, his other hand trailing along Will’s hip, “I think I’d like to _fuck you_.”

Will didn’t have a chance to react, all he could do was gasp as he was shoved from Hannibal’s lap, forced onto his belly as the man moved behind him, grabbing his ass. Will felt his breath, then his tongue, and he nearly screamed, pushing back against Hannibal’s mouth. The doctor traced his hole, flicking his tongue along the muscles and relaxing Will, even as the rest of him tensed.

“Fuck,” Will gasped, biting violently at his own lip. “Hnnn, H-Hannibal.” He shook his curls, tasting blood from his own lip as Hannibal’s tongue pressed inside him. Will’s mind hadn’t yet recovered from his orgasm, and was going wild as Hannibal alternated between fucking him with his tongue and tracing the ring of muscles he so badly wanted to fuck open.

Will’s head was spinning when Hannibal stopped. He never felt him move, didn’t hear his bedside table drawer- didn’t register anything until a slick finger was pushing inside him, and he was pushing back against it. Hannibal smirked.

“Do you do this to yourself?” he asked, moving quickly, and Will nodded.

“Y-yeah. I pretend it’s you- like y-you want me _opened wide_.” Hannibal pressed a second finger into Will, sinking his teeth into his ass and making him nearly squeal.

“I do,” he whispered, “so badly, Will. Open like the whore of Babylon.” He spread his fingers, leaving Will gasping, and then shoved a third inside.

Will only lasted a few strokes, before he was twisting, reaching back and pulling Hannibal’s hands away from him. “I need you,” he breathed, and the doctor was standing, working his clothing off- leaving it discarded on the floor, unlike him in such a way that had _Will_ smirking slightly. He watched as Hannibal poured lube onto his hand, stroked his cock- there was so much to take in Will had no idea where to rest his eyes, caught glimpses of every bit of his body and felt his heart hammering over it all. Hannibal motioned for Will, then, but the brunet was shaking his head. “Lay down,” he whispered, and Hannibal, raising an eyebrow, listened. He settled, and Will crawled over him, reaching back and wrapping a hand around the base of his cock- stroking once, unable to not, wanting to memorize the feel of the skin against his hand, the weight pressing to his palm.

Then, taking a breath, he eased himself down onto it. Hannibal’s eyelids flickered, and Will caught them as they _almost_ rolled. Smiling to himself, he rested against the doctor once he had taken him fully inside, whispering, “your whore should do some of the work.”

When he moved, it was with a control Will didn’t know he had. He reached out, braced his hands on Hannibal’s chest- fingers playing in his chest hair- rocking, lifting his hips in a way that obviously caught the older man off guard. Hannibal groaned, hands flexing against the bed, wanting to reach for Will- but not. Not from the look in his stormy blue eyes.

Will bit his lip, staring down at Hannibal, feeling his cock hardening again. Hannibal shifted, slightly, and the angle was suddenly _better_ , so much so that Will gave a gasp, then pushed himself up entirely, reaching his hands into his curls and tugging.

“Do I feel good?” he breathed, and Hannibal licked his lips- nodded, groaned as Will rocked in _just the right way_. His skin was buzzing with something Hannibal had never felt, an arousal so intense he could feel it in his bones, his teeth. He wanted to leave his mark inside Will, he wanted to truly own him, inside and out.

This man was _his_. He was going to show it.

Will reached down, wrapping one hand around his own cock, stroking desperately and gnawing on his lip. “I feel crazy,” he breathed, “like I’ve got a fever I can’t sweat out.” Hannibal moved then, unable to resist- sitting up and wrapping his arms around Will, pulling them flush together and disrupting his strokes. He kissed Will’s mouth, pried his lips open with his tongue as they rocked, as he let his desire push up into his throat. Hannibal groaned when he stilled inside Will, filling him with a heat that Will had never experienced at this level- and he, he returned it, splashing both of their bellies, his cock trapped between them.

Hannibal kissed him, and kept kissing him, bringing Will down from his second high. Will wrapped his arms around his neck, keeping close, laughing to himself until Hannibal pulled back. “What is so funny?”

“Just never thought I’d _actually_ end up here,” he admitted, playfully licking at Hannibal’s lips. “But glad it happened.”

“As am I. I will have to replace the shirt I ruined.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Will whispered, “I mean, am I really going to need to wear a tux again?”

“Oh, yes,” Hannibal replied, twirling a brown curl around his finger. “When I parade you around again as my little trophy, sweet boy. A good whore should make his master the talk of the town.” He leaned forward, allowing his cheek to brush against Will’s, feel the scratch of his stubble, so he could whisper in his ear, “I will make it worth your while, darling. I will buy you real silk. You’ll be a _goddess_.”

Will shivered, having no words to deny Hannibal, nor the will. He wanted to be dressed in everything his, to be so thoroughly owned that not a single person could look at him and question it. He was ready to be his whore- and well beyond willing.


End file.
